Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Fifteen

    The Toronto Raptors beat the Lakers and just barely missed having to go into overtime by landing a final three-point shot made right before the buzzer. The Lakers fans were livid, and a few of them booed Drake as he and Mia stood from their seats.

    Mia frowned up at the booing fans.

    Drake placed a hand at her back. "There are sore losers at every game."

    "Yeah but it's stupid for them to boo at anyone," she muttered. "It's just a game. It's extra stupid for them to boo at you. You didn't do anything."

    He laughed and leaned in close to her, lightly kissing her temple. "Calm down, my little pitbull."

    She looked up at him and the expression on her face softened. "I'm just saying," she said, wrapping her arm around his waist.

    He whipped his cell phone out and initiated a text message. "Anthony was living it up in the VIP area. I'm going to pop in and congratulate the Raps on their win while he gets back out to the car and pulls it up to the door."

    "I was wondering why he wasn't sitting with us," she mused as she walked alongside him.

    "Inviting him in was a last-minute thing," Drake explained, sending the message and glancing around. "Courtside seats aren't easy to come by at the last minute. I'm sure he enjoyed himself in VIP, though. They spoil you up there."

    The stadium was so packed, they had to stand in line just to leave the seating area. As they were waiting, fans screamed at them and ran up to take pictures with them. Drake and Mia kept their arms around each other while greeting fans. A few of the fans who approached them burst into tears at the sight of Drake. He would grin at them and hug them while giving Mia a bewildered expression over the top of the fan's head.

    During their first few months of dating, another fan had cried at the sight of Drake while he and Mia were out on a date. After the date, he'd told Mia, "I will never forget the first fan who cried when they met me. It was so crazy to me. And it was pretty early on in my career, too. I remember thinking to myself, But why are you crying because of me? I'm not Michael Jackson or anything. I'm just me. It was so crazy.

    "When you're an entertainer, and you start reaching certain levels of success, sometimes it can be easy to lose sight of who you are as a person. You have people putting you on this crazy high pedestal, you know? And for some artists, they buy into that. They start to view themselves as an ideal, start to perceive themselves the way their fans perceive them. Which...I think is a part of leads to crazy breakdowns, because that isn't reality. It's foam. A fantasy. At the end of the day, we are all real people. For me, it was important to make sure that I didn't let money or fame change me. I wanted to be the same person who was kicking it with my boys back in Toronto. The same person, just...with more money, and a little more well-known. But moments like those, when you have people coming up to you and crying...moments like those shake me. Moments like those make it easy to forget, Hey - I'm just Aubrey. After moments like those, I have to stop and remind myself sometimes."

    He spoke to her a lot about the industry over the time they'd been together, because after her co-writing credits for his album became public knowledge, everyone wanted a piece of her. A-list artists were texting Drake so that he could connect her to them. According to him, a day would come that she would become a singer and not just a songwriter.

    Singing wasn't her specialty; it had never been her specialty, but he was certain that she would end up singing. "Your voice has a unique quality, a unique sound that most trained singers wouldn't be able to duplicate," he always told her. "And once you start working with these artists, helping them write, all it's going to take is them hearing you sing some of the lyrics you're writing. Then they're going to drop that suggestion that you should sing. And something is going to happen. I don't know what it is. But something will happen that will make you want to sing."

    She had shaken her head at him. "Not gonna happen."

    He had held up a finger. "Just watch." There was a pause, and then he added, "I've seen the way you look when you sing. You're...happy. Happy on a whole 'nother level. So...you may not think you were meant to sing. And I'm not going to say you're wrong. Well...wait a minute. I guess I am." He laughed. "You're wrong. You should sing."

    Together, they inched towards the corridor. Thankfully, they had come in and would now be leaving the stadium through a different entrance than the rest of the general public, or else it would be a madhouse trying to get out. Paparazzi were waiting for them outside; they knew the deal, knew that celebrities tended to arrive and leave from employees entrances rather than using the front doors to enter an establishment.

    Bright camera flashes went off as soon as the door opened. Mia raised a hand to shield her face from the light. She didn't mind photographs being taken of her, but the lights were harsh and blinding - and there were so many of them. She drew closer to Drake, huddling against him. His arm tightened on her waist, which made her feel good. Protected.

    "Hey, man, are you working on anything?" one of the photographers shouted, while snapping away with his camera.

    "Vanessa is still doing interviews saying that you are the best lover she's ever had - got any response to that?" another photographer yelled.

    "Ugh." Mia rolled her eyes.

    Drake squinted, peering beyond the photographers. "Where the hell is Anthony with the car?"

    "He probably had to park far away," she said, turning her back to the photographers and burying her face in his chest.

    He kissed the top of her head and slid his other arm around her waist. The paparazzi continued to shout questions at him. He continued to ignore them.

    Usually, his security team was with them and that team worked wonders in holding the paparazzi back. They were great at preventing photographers from getting into Drake's and Mia's personal space, but without Chubbs, Tank, or any of the other security members present, Mia felt vulnerable.

    On more than one occasion he had warned her that this is what dating him would be like. The media was fascinated and borderline obsessed with every aspect of his life. Who he dated, who he was friends with, where he spent his time...they wanted to know everything. If they got wind that he'd be somewhere, they were there and waiting for him. Cameras in hand. Sometimes, they filmed him instead of snapping photos. A relatively new tactic for paparazzi - videotape celebrities, pressuring them to be nicer to the tabloid photographers. It's either smile and play nice, or be filmed and made to look like a rude jackass. Sneaky bastards, Mia thought now, turning her head and taking a peek at them.

    They were so desperate, desperate to get a good photo. Desperate for a story. Hungry for drama. Whether they started it or whether it was served up to them on a silver platter, they didn't seem to care.